Thursday, January 7, 2010

Chapter 2, Denton & Stark, part 3





Note: to go to start of SEA DOGS click on  this LINK below
The Beginning; Prologue - The Attic

Stark


                      Stark stood tall at 6’2’’, as his steel blue eyes surveyed the room. Although he was a relatively young detective, at twenty six, he oozed strength & confidence. Of course, he still had much to learn the hard way, but you sensed that he’d get there sooner, rather than later. Well that’s what crossed the pretty twenty five year-olds mind, as she watched him enter the room from behind her desk.

Newly appointed Detective constable James had followed in her father’s foot steps. Her father had been killed whist on duty. After his death the family, particularly her mother, had not been overly keen on her choice of profession. Because of her parents divorce she had never lived in the valley area, even when her father served there. Due to this she had been able to request duty there without much opposition. To this day though the medal of honor presented after Sergeant Chris James’ murder was ever present on her bedside table.

                      James rose from her chair smiling & walked out from behind the desk, hand outstretched to greet the new detective.

”Hi I’m PC James,...Sally James, that is.. Sir, ”she started, almost forgetting protocol.  ..”I believe you’re Detective Sergeant Stark aren’t you?....Sir, she utter quickly just in case.

”Yes.” he replied & he half smiled back at her, surveying her whilst shaking her hand.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, whilst you’re waiting for the chief? You see he’s out at the moment & he should be back in the next 30 minutes,...if all goes well! He told me to make you feel at home should you arrive before he returns,” she added nervously, which was uncharacteristic for James.

”Uumm..... a cup of coffee sounds pretty good to me,” he replied in a reassured manner.

 “How do you like it?”

 ”Black, hot & with no milk, or sugar.”

“That’s a rather sobering choice isn’t it?” she joked, but Stark didn’t answer. His mind was on something else. Something quite different as he stared out of the 4th floor window, out across the wet, windswept city landscape.
                      Stark had originally intended to become a surgeon, like his father before him, but fate had steered him otherwise. He had produced the highest academic results possible whilst completing his training & was considered by people in high places to be a top prospect.
His self discipline & general temperament was excellent according to all the written reports. If Stark had any flaw then it was inexperience, which was to be expected at this early stage of a career. However, many had noted in the past that he was a quick learner. If there were any other hidden faults, then they didn’t show. Or Stark had managed to bury them deep. With his closely cropped black, slightly spiky, hair & his dark good looks meant that he was noticeable. He stood out from the crowd.
                     
         The room in which James’ desk lay was precisely as you would have expected a CID office to look. The usual filing cabinets, desk-top PC, telephone, paperwork, pine desks & matching chairs were all there. The walls were painted magnolia & the notice board, behind the now seated James, was full. As Stark turned from the window & glanced her way he noticed the coffee sitting ready at an empty place opposite James.

     “You were miles away & I didn’t want to disturb you....I hope that it’s not cold, because you’ve been stood at that window for several minutes now.” She declared, as she nodded in the direction of the neglected cup.

      “Oh.. ..I was just looking for a house. I once knew someone who lived in this area,... but that was a while ago now.” He answered, without thinking.

      “Was it someone in the force?” Inquired James. Stark didn’t answer he just looked blankly at her, walked to the opened door & closed it.

      “-You know I only wondered, because many of the houses that can be seen from that window are police houses. Many of the people that work here live near by.” Informed James almost apologetically.

Stark pulled the chair out & sat at the desk. He picked up the coffee cup in his right hand whilst simultaneously checking his watch.

      “What time did you say the chief would be back?” He asked, changing the subject in mid-conversation, as if her question had never been made. With that the door burst open.
                     
The new police HQ was situated right in the middle of the city. Stark had requested to be transferred from Exeter & he had been given a choice of places where he could be stationed. There it stood on the short list & perhaps it had come a little prematurely, but he made his choice to go. To be stationed here had been his long term objective & the sole reason why he had joined the police force in the first place. He had spent summer holidays in the area when he was a kid. The place had represented many happy childhood memories, before his uncle was sick, but now it represented sadness. Although he had moved their voluntarily it was like being cast into the lions den, but he felt strong enough for the task.
Considered to be dedicated to cause under normal circumstances, in this particular instance it was vengeance rather than professionalism that stirred inside.
                     
                      Chief Inspector Rictor came across as a rather jolly man. He was obese with rosy red cheeks & his silver hair had receded leaving a clown-like hairline. However looks can be deceiving & he wasn’t a man to be crossed. His white pointed mustache would tremble whenever his face flashed blood red, in the event of anger. The likelihood of this was greater whenever the pressure of an important case was on. Rictor had been promoted to his position nine years before & this had allowed him a certain amount of breathing space at the expense of others. Today was a good day & Stark was greeted by a firm handshake as soon as Rictor burst into the room. Is wasn’t long after a short introduction before Stark was being led up the corridor to his new office. Stark’s office was much like the original “operations room” in which James dwelt, except only much, much, smaller. The magnolia walls were only broken by the doorway at one end & the large double window directly opposite at the other.

      “Well, here we are Stark, your own little paradise,” laughed Rictor. “All the cabinets are empty.” He said waving a finger in the direction of the two grey filing cabinets, which stood in the far left hand corner of the room beside the empty pine desk & chair.
“So I’m sure that James will help you find what you need from the archive, if you ask her nicely.” Rictor smiled glancing around at James who had followed them down the corridor & was by now peering round the door as he spoke.
“You also have a north westerly view of city life from your window, but I hope that you spend more time concentrating on the task ahead rather than peering out.”
Stark half smiled again & thanked Rictor.

 “Well then...umm  we’ll leave you alone for now,” Rictor continued.
 It’s 09:38 & we have a meeting every morning at 10am to go over cases & assess the progress. See you in James’s office “the operations room” in just over 20 minutes.”

With that James & Rictor were gone & Stark was alone once more. 
He walked to the window & stared out at the rows of houses below.
After five minutes he had found the little red brick terraced house, in which he’d spent holidays in the city, with his mother & sister. It had once been owned by his Uncle, but that seemed along time ago now. In the old HQ building which had been knocked down to make way for the bypass the CID had been located on the ninth floor. Stark was sure that the view from there must have been spectacular by comparison, but he was glad that it had been demolished; especially after the suicide.
Stark wondered if he had done the right thing coming here. Was it too soon? Was he really ready for it? Would he ever be ready?
Even though the building was gone the past still hung in the air like smog. Stark opened his brief case & carefully placed his Uncle’s diaries in the desk drawer & locked it. He looked out across the city & beyond once more without knowing that the missing piece of the puzzle was right in front of him. It was just that he couldn’t see it from there.

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Written by T.R.Vinnicombe (aka Dr. Peter Hodgkins) ©2009 all rights reserved & none of the contents of this site can be copied or used in any way without the written consent of the author. Published online by MicroHotStar 2009.
Sherlock Holmes - The Hound of the Baskervilles 
Murder on the Orient Express (Hercule Poirot Mysteries) 


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